


Angelus Mortis

by eamesish



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-01
Updated: 2012-07-10
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:28:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eamesish/pseuds/eamesish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ambitious Tony Stark is tasked with inventing the cure for a deadly disease that is sweeping the globe and thinks he's almost there... but when an interview goes awry and a certain blue-clad figure shows up in the midst of a citywide fire, he fears there may be more to the outbreak than he first thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bones (tumblr)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bones+%28tumblr%29).



> Hey guys! This is my first Avengers fic so I'm pretty excited about it. I've been meaning to get into the fandom more and have been dying to write some fanfiction lately, so when a friend of mine was feeling down about things I offered to write her a fic to help cheer her up. She requested some Steve/Tony action and thus this story was born. Bones, darling, this is for you! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope the ensuing chapters are equally engrossing. :'D

 “ _... outside the island. Reports say the fatalities are in the millions and climbing. There is no cure as of yet; however, it is rumored that Mr. Tony Stark of Stark Industries is working furiously to change that. Whether he succeeds is—”_

“Pepper, I can't concentrate.”

The sound from the TV stopped abruptly, the successive sigh making Tony look up.

“I just really, _really_ don't want to hear about how I'm supposed to save the entire human race right now.”

Pepper's expression softened into something akin to a smile. “That's not what I was sighing about.”

“What, then?”

“You're killing yourself over this.”

Tony barked a laugh. “What am I _supposed_ to do, Pepper? I really, really don't see an alternative. People across the water are running around eating eachother. If there's any time to kill myself over a project, it's now. Before, you know, we decide other people are tasty, too.”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but turned away instead. Tony realized he was being a little harsh, but—

“You've got another interview today,” she finally said, interrupting his thoughts, giving him an exasperated look before disappearing to another part of the tower.

He wasn't sure which he wanted more: to hit something or to cry. It was very much not in his nature to do either of those things so spontaneously, but his nerves were frayed and he was nearing the end of his patience. He hadn't been fair to Pepper lately and he knew it, but was he really supposed to save everyone on the entire planet without breaking a sweat?

 _Where the hell is Banner when I need him?_ he thought, getting back to work on the cure he was currently crafting. He kept telling himself that this was just like everything else,  another project that he could flounce around with and be admired for, but it wasn't. This time it was important, this time it was real, and this time he couldn't push away the fear that perhaps he really would fail this time.

Rolling his eyes at himself,  he  shooed away the  computer screens surrounding him and headed toward his bedroom.

“Your suit, sir.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” He eyed the suit and frowned. He'd _much_ rather be wearing a metal one—then again, he did look good in any suit, cloth or otherwise...

…

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome _Mr. Tony Stark!”_

The audience roared as Tony walked onto the stage, his signature smile plastered across his face. Giving everyone a wave, he sat down in the chair across from the host—Riley or Rodney or Ruben, something like that—and beamed, squaring his shoulders and settling into the seat.

“It's great to see you, Mr. Stark,” Ri-Rod-Rube said, lips curving up to reveal some very, very square teeth.

“Well I tell you, it's great to be here,” Tony replied, mind racing to remember the guy's name. “I think we're all pretty glad to be here, actually.”

The crowd cheered and he winked at them, feeding their applause. He'd been to what seemed like hundreds of interviews since the global quarantine was declared two weeks ago, and though the appointments were made under the guise of “let's watch Tony smile and look good,” everyone knew their true purpose: to keep the public calm.  Thus he found himself charming the audience as often as he could,  playing everything up to help them forget the horror that had already overtaken most of the world.  Basically he was doing what he'd always done, but enjoying it far less.

“So, Tony, tell us: how well have you been faring through all this doomsday stuff?”

“I've been doing pretty well, actually. Had to cancel a few appointments at the hair salon, but other than that, not too shabby.” The audience chuckled. “Hell, we've had a doomsday or two before, right? What's this one compared to the rest?”

The host shook his head lightly, showing off his square teeth again. “You got that right.” He paused for a moment, as if thinking. “Now Tony, I know this is all a question we're all dying to ask, so I'm just going to get it over with:  we've been told you were tasked with developing a cure to the plague ravaging the world. How is that going?”

Tony bit back a sigh. He knew he'd ask that question—they always did—but he still hated answering it. What was he supposed to say? He knew they all hoped  _desperately_ for him to say yes and he wished he could fulfill their hopes. He was  _so close,_ too, he could almost  _taste_ the answer,  but he still couldn't say yes.

“It's going well, actually,” he said, pumping up his smile again before he forgot about it. “I'm making a lot of progress.”

“Can you give us an estimate?”

“It could be anywhere from a few days to a few weeks. At this point I can't really tell. All I can say is that I'm working as fast as I can and that everyone should remain calm. They've got Manhattan locked down ti—”

A deafening crash  interrupted him mid-sentence, sending the audience into a frenzy. The host stood and shouted something about staying seated, but as a second and third crash made him abandon that pursuit and flee for an exit.

“Mr. Stark!”

Tony's brow furrowed as he heard a voice he faintly recognized. Turning toward the main entrance, he was surprised at what he found. In the doorway stood a man he had met once before;  he was tall, blonde, and clad in a red, white, and blue suit that was almost sickeningly patriotic.

“I knew you were obsessed with me, Cap, but you don't have to crash my interviews. I got your point from the love letters.”

Steve looked so,  _so_ far from amused.

“We need to get out of here,” he said gruffly, stalking toward Tony like an angry parent. Tony wanted to protest, maybe retort wittily—as he was prone to doing—but a rumbling creak from above them made Tony change his mind. He changed his agenda to following Steve instead, running a little to keep up with his stride.

“Why are you here?” he asked, checking his watch. Well, at least he'd gotten out of that interview early.

“I was looking for you.”

“So I gathered.”

Steve shot him a look. “Nick Fury was trying to get a hold of you.”

“I never received any communications from him or Agent Coulson,” Tony replied, frowning.

Another look. Tony was known for ignoring S.H.I.E.L.D communications, but he'd always  _consciously ignored_ them. This time he really hadn't gotten any, which puzzled him.  So why was Steve looking at him like that?

“What does he want with me? Last time I checked, we weren't the best of friends.” He grimaced at the stairwell, which Steve had already started down. Twelve floors of stairs? Awesome. If he had his damn suit on, this would be a piece of cake!

“It's regarding the Avengers Initiative. He wanted to get everyone together. Dr. Banner arrived at HQ yesterday, so you're the only one left that they haven't seen.”

Tony wrinkled his nose. “Avengers? What's he need the Avengers for?”

“He thinks... _outside influences_ caused this disease.”

“Wait, what?” Tony stopped in his tracks, trying to catch his breath. Steve gave him an exasperated look.

“Look, can we just go? This building is going to collapse any second now. I'll explain everything once we get outside.”

Tony rolled his eyes but resumed walking. “They ought to call you Captain Clarity,” he mumbled, wishing the stairs would just  _end._

Soon enough, they did. Tony emerged into the summer air with a spring in his step despite his exhaustion, peering around at his surroundings. He had taken no more then three steps out of the building when the acrid smell of smoke hit his nostrils, burning his lungs and eyes.

Coughing, Tony looked around and realized that, well, half the city was on fire.

“You know anything about this, Cap?”

Steve shook his head, grimacing as he tried to keep the smoke out of his lungs. At least now that he was outside, he could call Jarvis and get a suit sent over. Waving at Steve, the two headed across the street from the building they'd exited, whose top was quite thoroughly smashed, and ducked into an alley.

Pressing his thumb to his ear piece, Tony cleared his throat and waited for the call to go through.

“Hey, Jarvis. Listen, I need a suit sent over ASAP—”

A quiet chuckle interrupted him.

“Not so fast, Mr. Stark. I wouldn't want you messing up my plans with your toys.”

Tony's mouth went dry and his mind raced. He knew that voice, but he didn't want to confirm it.  He wanted to say stranger things had happened but, well, this was probably at the top of the list.

“ _Loki?”_

“So you're familiar. I'm touched.” He sighed languidly, as if he had all the time in the world. “As glad as I am to hear that, I'm afraid I'll be needing to borrow your tower for a little while. You've got a lot of nice things here and I'm quite looking forward to making use of them.”

Tony felt anger well up in his stomach, white-hot and boiling. “You touch anything and I'll beat you into the ground myself.”

Loki laughed again, but this time it was fuller, completely deranged.

“Oh, I'm afraid you're a bit too late for that.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this on a mini-roadtrip. Hope you enjoy it, Bones--and, of course, the rest of you, too!

No suit.

For a moment Tony was speechless. _No suit._ He was going to run around while the city crashed and burned... with no suit. Well, he'd had no reason to panic before, as he knew his suit would protect him from both bites and debris, but now he was feeling a little shaky. His suit was a part of him; it was his baby; Tony Stark was not Tony Stark _without a suit._

“We should—”

Tony grimaced at Steve's voice.

“Just... just give me a moment to grieve.”

The guy actually shut up, bless his soul.

“We have to get to the tower,” Tony finally said, breaking the silence, partly because he was starting to get a handle on his sudden mortality and partly because the smoke was getting thicker where they were and he wanted to move.

“We have to find the rest of the Avengers first.”

“Well, where are they?”

“They...” He paused, frowning. Tony didn't like that look. “They were being flown in here from HQ when a member of the crew turned. There was a struggle and they went down, but that's all I know.”

“Why weren't you with them?"

Steve looked a bit embarrassed. “I prefer not to take S.H.I.E.L.D aircraft when I can. I'm not very comfortable with autopilot.”

“What, so you _drove?”_

“Well, I wasn't that far away to begin with.”

Tony blinked. “So what do you expect us to do, run around to god-knows-where to find them? You think my pretty face and your... your _spandex_ are just going to stop those—things?”

“I don't know!” He sounded frustrated.

“Alright,” Tony relented, cutting him a break. “Why don't we head to the Brooklyn Bridge and see what we see? The police put blockades up at every entrance onto the island, but I'm sure they'd let Fury if he gave them one of those death looks of his. I mean, they let you in and you're a giant puppy, so facing Fury would be traumatizing.”

Steve looked insulted, but he chuckled a little bit. “Fine, we'll do that, but let me go in front of you and don't get too far away. I don't want you getting squashed by a piece of falling debris.”

Tony wasn't sure what made him pout more, the prospect of following Steve around like a distressed damsel or being squashed by rubble. Unfortunately, he was acutely aware of who the stronger of the two was and had to see the sense in his plan because, well, what else could he do?

“Alright, but if you do end up saving me from something, just know that you won't win my hand in marriage.”

Steve didn't even react. Pity.

So it was that Tony began to follow Steve around like a lost child, mostly just trying to avoid anything falling and suffocation from all the smoke. As they walked through the city the damage became more and more apparent: someone—or something—had gone around and blown off the tops of buildings for a reason still unknown. The destruction just didn't end. As they passed people in the streets, some in their cars and some walking, all trying to head toward one of the various bridges, no doubt, he could see the impact of the carnage written all over their faces.

_Why is Loki doing this?_ Tony wondered, frowning. It all seemed so... arbitrary. Furthermore, he couldn't tell what he was responsible  for and what he wasn't. It was all very, very frustrating, and if he 'd had his suit he'd have half a mind to fly up to his tower and tell Loki off there and then.  As it was he was still feeling too much a damsel to really do anything other than glare at Steve and wish things were different so he could be all superhero-y and kick-ass, too.

A low rumble sounded from behind them and Tony looked back. It was coming from the tower. Was Loki—

“ _Get down!”_

The breath was forced out of him as Steve leapt on top of him, pressing him to the ground and shielding him from the massive explosion happening overhead. Steve crouched over him and visibly grit his teeth, bracing himself for the impact of the debris. Sure enough, the shower came, clanking against the shield and jarring Steve's torso. Tony felt somewhat petrified as he cowered beneath the Captain, not used to being so _vulnerable._

The clanks slowly subsided until all he could hear was their breathing, a bit ragged and certainly more panicked-sounding than he was sure either of them would like. It was over, which was good, but they had a problem: they'd been near the base of a building when the explosion occurred and were now trapped in darkness between the wall and the debris. The only thing creating their little bubble was Steve's shield, which created a roof over them and kept the space from collapsing in on itself.

“Are you alright?” Tony said quietly. He could actually _feel_ Steve's breath against his neck. Their space was smaller than he thought.

“Yeah. My leg is trapped, though. I think it fractured a little.”

Tony lit up his watch to survey their situation. Steve was kneeling Atlas style, one leg outstretched behind him, and as Tony moved his light to follow it he saw that it disappeared into the rubble. He returned his light to Steve's face and saw that he was sweating profusely and had started to shake, if only minutely.

“I'm not going to let it fall on you,” he grunted, his voice strained with effort.

“I should hope not. Look, I'm gonna work on freeing your leg up. Maybe we'll find a path out that way. Your head was facing the building, so we should be able to dig our way out to the street. Once I'm out you can do your strongman thing and get out, too.”

“One wrong move and all the rubble could come down on us.”

“Yeah, well, if we don't find a way out of this soon we'll both be pancakes. Just don't let go of the damn shield, alright?”

Steve paused. “Alright.”

Tony pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight function, setting it on the flattest ground there was, then lit up his watch again. That gave him good light to work in. Gingerly he began removing rocks from Steve's leg, pausing every time Steve cringed.

“Can you move it?” he asked after removing a substantial amount of rubble. Steve tried and, sure enough, his leg moved a little, causing some of the rock to fall away.

“I can see some light now. Hold on tight, Cap. I'm gonna get us out of here.”

Steve tried to laugh, but it was shaky.

Tony's fingers scrabbled against the rock until he could see more and more light, eventually just shoving at the rocks to make them fall away. He made a hole large enough to fit through and wiggled out, looking back when he was out.

“Can you get out of there by yourself?”

“Yeah,” came Steve's reply from inside the little rubble cave. “Stand back."

Tony didn't have to be told twice. He scrambled behind a tall rock as Steve expelled the debris from around him, spraying rubble in every direction. When he was done Tony hazarded a look from behind his rock, standing fully when he saw that the Captain was freed.

“How's your leg?”

“It's alright. A very minor injury; should be fine in a few minutes.”

Together they sat on a larger rock, surveying the carnage and waving away all the dust in the air.

“Just how I wanted to spend my day,” Tony said with a sigh. Steve laughed and gave him a look.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Steve turned away, still smiling a little, and Tony huffed. The corners of his mouth quirked up, though, and something deep inside of him couldn't help but think that he wouldn't mind Steve as a friend, maybe. Not a human brick wall or a hero, but a friend.

“We should get a beer. You know, after I've saved the world and everything.”

“Right, after _you've_ saved it.”

“Hey, it's totally all me! You're just... my bodyguard.”

Steve raised his eyebrows as Tony finally admitted he was actually useful. Tony let out an exasperated sound, realizing it too, and glared at the Captain for the umpteenth time.

“Fine. If I throw a party celebrating my success—which I will—I _guess_ I can invite you. But only as my sidekick.”

“Your sidekick?”

“Yes, yes, my sidekick. It's either that or my lackey, but I don't think you want that.”

Steve just laughed.

After a few more minutes of quiet meaningless chatter (as there really was nothing else to discuss but their possible impending doom), Steve stood up and tested his leg. It no longer hurt, he said, so they continued on, this time with more caution.

“Do you know where that explosion came from?” Steve asked as they walked, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Tony thought for a moment, remembering how he'd looked at the tower just before it, and realized something.

“About that...”

Steve gave him a stern look. “What?”

“Before all this happened, I was working on a new rocket launcher. I think Loki's using it to blow stuff up.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don't know, because it's fun?” Steve glared at him. “Oh, come on. If you had the chance to blow up a city with no repercussions—or rather, none that you cared about—wouldn't you do it?”

Steve chuckled a little. “Yeah, maybe."

“Right. So I think he's playing with my stuff, you know, getting his kicks while he can. God dammit, I hope that thing blows up in his face. It is still a prototype, after all.”

“How did he know where we were?”

“I don't think he did. Like I said, I think he's just blowing everything up because he can.”

Steve frowned. “You and your gadgets.”

“Yeah, what about 'em?”

Steve chose not to answer that. It was a wise decision.

They continued on in silence, and as the smell of smoke grew stronger he began to fear that it had to do with their proximity to the bridge. He felt something twist in his stomach and frowned, fearing what actual sight of the bridge would reveal. He didn't realize he'd fallen behind until he almost ran into Steve, who had stopped abruptly as he crested a hill of rubble.

“Tony, I think we have a problem.”

He would have gotten on Steve's case for calling him by his first name, but was caught off-guard by the sight that was before them.

They did have a problem, it seemed... and what a remarkable problem it was.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think, guys. I'm having a lot of fun writing this and I hope it's fun to read, too. :)
> 
> P.S: If you notice the Firefly reference you get a cookie and much love from me ;*

Tony and Steve were very suddenly and very  _severely_ aware of what the booming noises they'd heard earlier were: the bridge's blockades were down completely, laying in ruin where they had once stood strong. The metal roofs of cars glinted in the sunlight as far as the eye could see, some on the bridge and some outside either of its entrances. Many of the cars on their side of the bridge were abandoned, as the wreckage only left spaces big enough for people to get through, not full cars.

Steve picked his way down the slope carefully, glancing back to make sure Tony was following him, and surveyed the damage. The whole thing was absolutely _mystifying._ Why would Loki—

And then he saw it.

In the midst of the sea of cars stood a figure, ragged and hunched, leaning over something. Tony tried to see what it was, but it was hidden by a car. He had a sinking feeling he knew what it was anyway.

As his eyes traveled along the bridge, he realized something.

“Cap, do you see what I see?”

Steve's expression said he did. The first figure was just that—the first, the first of _many._ They were _everywhere._ Their step was shambling, their skin grayish and unhealthy. Tony's mind raced as he took them all in, the urge to relive lunch presenting itself strongly in his stomach. They smelled _awful._ Like a puzzle he felt the pieces click together to form an idea. The buildings, the explosions, the bridge, it was all—

“Shit,” he said, drawing Steve's attention. “Goddammit, he was playing me like a violin.” He bit his thumbnail in frustration. “I thought he was just having fun blowing stuff up, but that's bullshit. None of it was arbitrary, it was—”

“A distraction,” Steve finished softly, looking out at the slowly growing crowd of the diseased.

“Yeah. A distraction. You know, if we looked at the other bridges, the subways, everything, I bet those blockades would be gone, too. God, I don't know why I didn't notice it before.”

“You were stressed out.”

“Well _yeah,_ but I work best when I'm stressed out.”

Steve gave him an incredulous look.

“Whatever. The point is, these things are bound to be all over the city by now. The extra explosions were just to make it all look random, so we didn't catch on. The whole city's a fucking _landmine_ with them in it.”

“Well I've got my shield. I can beat them off, smash their skulls. Shut down the computer, right?”

Tony huffed. “Didn't you drive here from Brooklyn? You should know how these things are. Hell, I've been huddled in my tower for the last two weeks and _I_ know what these things are like. Your shield wouldn't be enough, and me—look at me. I'm already battered up and we've only been running around for a few hours.”

Steve grimaced. “Yeah, but what else are we—”

A piercing scream tore through the air, making both of them glance up. A woman, blonde and tired-looking, was wrestling with one of the things, crying out for help. It was a losing battle. Tony grimaced as she saw the thing sink its teeth into her neck, saw her choke.

“We've got to help her,” Steve said, climbing down the remainder of the slope much faster now, breaking out into a run as soon as he could.

Tony's jaw dropped. Sure, he wanted to save the woman, too, but he wasn't suicidal!

“Cap, you can't just _waltz over there_ ,” he started, but Steve was already gone. “Hey! Seriously, they'll surround you. You're not _invincible._ Just—Steve, you star-spangled _asshat,_ would you put your chivalry aside for a second and listen to me? At least have a strategy!”

Steve was not having it. He lifted his shield high and bashed away the first few—what, zombies? Undead? Diseased?—and made his merry way over to the woman, who was clutching at her neck and sobbing.

Tony was about to follow when he got an idea. Looking toward the bridge, he remembered that the walls had been government-enforced. Surely the men guarding the thing would have had guns...

He picked his way over to the bridge and frowned, pulling out his phone—he couldn't use the ear piece, as Jarvis was out of commission. If the Avengers were anywhere near them, now would certainly be a good time for them to show up. Rather than getting his hopes up, though, he decided that he'd just call Fury and figure out a plan from there.

Nick Fury's gruff-looking face popped up on his screen and he chuckled quietly, pressing the phone to his ear. His eyebrows furrowed when he heard nothing but a steady beep. Why couldn't he make the call?

After one more fruitless try, he put his phone away and touched a hand to his ear piece.

“Took longer than I thought,” Loki purred, sounding smug.

“What are you doing to the signal?”

“It would not do for you to call your friends.”

“You can't stop me, you know. I'll find a way around it.”

“I eagerly await your interference.”

Tony made a frustrated noise and ended the call, rubbing his forehead roughly. The guy was just _so good_ at being irritating. He'd figure out a way around it, but for now he needed to back up Steve. Picking up the pace, he reached the wreckage and searched the rubble quickly, grimacing at the half-eaten bodies of soldiers strewn about. Eventually he found a gun that was relatively intact and, grabbing a grenade from the belt of one of the men, climbed on top of a car.

“Hey, Cap! Grenade!” Steve looked up from the fray and quickly sprang out of the way as Tony sent the grenade toward the place where the infected were the thickest, blowing most of them to smithereens.

He probably would have shouted something obscene and victorious had all the car alarms in the vicinity not gone off.

“Didn't think about that,” he muttered, prepping the gun to shoot. He could hear the moans of the collective as it made its way to the racket, shambling but steady, all just looking for some good old-fashioned _flesh._

“Tried to get in touch with Fury,” he said nonchalantly as Steve jogged up, breathless and covered in zombie guts. He stepped down from his vantage point on the car and shot one of the infected who hadn't been caught up in the sound of the alarms.

“Tried?”

“Failed. Loki's jamming the cell phone signal. I can get through, of course, but it'll take time. I'll try working on it while these damn alarms are going off and call when they're done. Can you cover me?”

“Sure. Won't be any different than the rest of today...”

“ _Hey.”_

Steve gave him an amused look and turned to slam his shield down on another zombie. Sighing, Tony turned his attention to his phone, looking up occasionally to shoot if needed.

_Never use my own toys against me,_ he thought  with a small smile. He'd built his own signal jammer, of course, and thus had built in clever little ways to circumvent it. He was currently working away at one of those ways, focused intently on the little screen of his phone and grinning as he got closer and the alarms started dying out.

“A little help, Stark.”

He was so close he could almost  _hear_ Fury's profanity.

“Stark.”

Almost there—

_“Stark!”_ Tony looked up just as his thumb hit the call button. Steve was  _swamped._ The infected had gotten bored with the sounds and had gone for the living, breathing people instead, coming at both himself and Steve.

“Stark—Stark, is that you?” came Nick Fury's voice from his phone.

Oh, great.

“Just a sec,” Tony said. Fury was clearly obstinate about being put on hold and said so, but the gunshots blocked out most of the cursing.

“Sorry, bit tied up at the moment. Yeah, it's me. Loki's got the tower, he's been blowing stuff up. We came looking for you at the Brooklyn Bridge. Look, are you guys anywhere near here? Captain Thrilling Heroics over here said you went down.” He paused to shoot a zombie behind Steve, narrowly avoiding a spray of blood.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, sidekick.”

Steve snorted.

“Yeah, we're coming in from Brooklyn. Should be there in half an hour or so. _What_ are ya'll—”

“Look out!” Tony yelped as he was pushed forward onto his stomach, getting the wind knocked out of him. A loud _clang_ sounded above him and he looked up to find Steve battling a zombie who'd been trying to make a meal of Tony but was now currently incapacitated on the hood of the car.

It was like it all happened in slow motion: he saw the zombie lunge for Steve, tried to yell out a warning, but he wasn't fast enough. His chest seized up as the thing sunk its teeth into Steve's exposed neck, his hood having been pulled down by another zombie earlier;  he could do nothing but watch as it tore into the skin viciously and without repentance. Grimacing, he shot the thing quickly as he scrambled to his feet and,  swallowing hard, grasped Steve's shoulder  to turn him and assess the damage.

It was bad. It was really,  _really_ bad.

“Fuck. One of 'em got the Captain,” he said into the phone, gritting his teeth and shooting at a few of the remaining zombies.

“Just sit tight. We'll be there soon and then we'll take a look at it.”

Tony shook his head,  first slowly, but then furiously. “No, no, I can't sit around and wait. I'm close to finishing a cure. I have to—”

“Stark, stop that thought right now, dammit.”

“Look, the dude's saved my ass _several_ times now. I can't let him die. He's got a matter of hours before he turns and I know I can save him if I go back into the tower and synthesize the cure. I don't have time to waste!”

“There is a motherfuckin' god lording it up in your tower, Stark!”

“Fury, I am sorry but I cannot have a fucking _zombie superhero_ running around Manhattan. It just can't wait. If I'm successful I'll meet you there, alright?”

“Stark, if you hang up that phone—”

Too late. Tony tucked the phone in his pocket and shot down the remaining infected, turning to Steve as soon as the coast was clear.

“That's the only time I'll admit you saved me.”

“I'm relishing it, believe me,” Steve wheezed, clutching at his neck. Tony pulled off his suit jacket and tore the sleeve off, pushing Steve's arms away from the wound.

“This won't do much, but it should slow the bleeding down while you heal.” He tied the sleeve around Steve's neck and knotted it like a bow. It looked ridiculous; had Tony not been so worried, he would have laughed.

“Why the panic if I'm just gonna heal?” Steve said, trying to stand up straight. Tony steadied him with an arm, frowning at Steve's condition. How long did he have before he was one of them, too?

“The stuff's already in your bloodstream, Cap. The mark will heal over, but this virus wouldn't be taking over the world if you could knock it out like the common cold. You've probably got longer than most, but most only have a couple hours. I can cure you, though. We just...” He looked toward the tower “We just have to get in there.”

Steve looked incredulous. “You sure about this?”

“Yeah. I owe you and, like I said, I don't need a zombie in spandex chasing me around.”

Steve was getting better at ignoring his jabs.  Standing up straight,  he squared his shoulders and sighed,  looking at Tony with a half-smile, half-grimace. Well, it was a noble attempt at something pleasant, anyway.

“Alright. Let's do this.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to do some 4th of July stuff soon, so I wanted to get this chapter out quick. I thought this story would be four chapters, but it'll actually be five! Oh well. More for you, right? Anyway, enjoy and let me know what you think! Next chapter should be up on Thursday :)

To say he was  not having a good time was an understatement.

The things truly had infested the city: they'd come from everywhere possible with their shambling step, moaning and groaning and generally smelling bad, all of them thirsting for blood. Tony was lucky that the good ship America by his side was a frigate and had quickly regained the ability to fight or he'd have been a goner—as much as he hated to admit that. There were simply too many of them to go at alone and he knew the bullets he'd managed to collect from the soldiers strewn about the wall weren't unending. Sooner or later he would run out, and at that time he hoped he'd either cured Steve or  was damn close to it.

Steve himself was doing well, but he had looked better. Tony could see the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, dripping down his temples, and his mouth hung open slightly. He was exhausted, Tony knew it, but he refused to give in.

_That's a relief,_ Tony thought. If there was anyone he'd prefer to run around with and wait until they turned into a zombie, it was a man with a steady resolve. Giving up was fatal for the both of them, for while Tony certainly wasn't one to give up without a fight, he could feel the emptiness of despair somewhere deep in the pit of his stomach.

“We're still getting that beer, you know,” Tony said after he shot down a particularly nasty group of infected.

Steve laughed, but the sound was strained. “I know.”

It pained Tony to hear that tiredness in his voice. He felt a little bit guilty, like the bite was his fault for being so damn weak. He had relied too much on his technology—because really, his technology had never failed him before—and became lazy and comfortable with the superhero/billionaire alternating life. If he'd just had his suit, none of this would have happened. Steve's blood wouldn't be on his hands and he wouldn't feel so  _awful._

_But his blood won't be on my hands,_ he thought with determination,  _because I'm going to save him._ Yeah, that was right. All he had to do was figure out the last few components of the cure and he'd be fine. He tried not to think about how many trials stuff like that usually went through before they were functional, because he was a  _genius_ and  _he would get it right on the first try._ He had no other option.

“To clarify, if I save your life, I do win _your_ hand in marriage,” Tony joked, trying to take his mind off his serious thoughts with something ridiculous.

“What, so it doesn't go both ways?”

“No. I'm the dashing prince here, not you.”

Steve, the tall, blonde paragon of humanity (aka the far princelier of the two of them) laughed. “Who said I'd want to marry you, anyway?”

“I did. Besides, in those stories the princess never got a choice.”

“I think we need to do a bit more thinking before we just decide that _I'm_ the damsel. I mean, weren't you cowering beneath my shield a few hours ago? I'd think you were—”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”

Steve just rolled his eyes.

It was good, though. It was stupid and it was absolute nonsense, but it helped. Took his mind off the whole thing, and Steve seemed a bit more chipper, too—as chipper as one can be when one can actually  _feel_ the progression of one's imminent death. Tony talked Steve's ears off and they both knew it was all silliness and that he was nervous and perhaps slightly terrified, but it worked, and they were laughing even as they mowed down people who used to be  _human_ , and when Steve smiled at him he very suddenly  realized that it was something  _different._

_You had better survive all this,_ he thought as he grit his teeth, smashing a zombie skull in with the butt of his gun. Loki had the decency, apparently, to stop blowing everything up, so they were making their way to the tower faster than he'd anticipated. He could see it looming in the distance, sparkling and untouched among the carnage, and felt a small twinge of pride for what he'd made. He only hoped the inside wasn't ruined, as he was rather fond of the décor.

“Hey, Stark. That look like one of your toys?”

Something was glowing at the top of the  tower. As they looked on, a huge blue beam shot into the sky, tearing through the clouds and disappearing into the upper layers of the atmosphere.

“I... can't say it is. We had better hurry.”

Steve agreed and they jogged along, avoiding the infected and going as fast as they could through the wreckage. Steve's breathing was ragged and his step grew heavier as they walked on, making Tony's stomach twist into knots. He felt pathetic for having to reassure himself that he'd save the Captain so many times, but what else could he do? He had to fight the fear somehow and spinning ridiculous lies and stories was the only way he knew how. He was lucky Steve was so tolerant of his antics or he might have already lost it.

They reached the tower somewhat uneventfully, if one didn't count bashing skulls in as eventful. Tony was about to start across the street to the tower when Steve grabbed his arm and pointed at the sky.

Something was happening. A strange sort of blackness was erupting from the focal point of the beam, eating away at the blue part of the sky and expanding rapidly.

“What _is_ that?” Steve murmured.

“I have absolutely no idea, and I don't want to be around to find out. Let's just—”

Then he saw it.

First one, then two, then three specks emerged from the strange hole, getting larger as they flew away from it. Tony squinted to see them and, as he got closer, he saw they were almost—almost _humanoid._

“It's a portal,” he said suddenly, grimacing. “Where the hell did he get a portal from? What, did he pull it out of his ass?”

“I think we've got bigger things to worry about than where it came from. Look.”

Tony's heart almost stopped when he saw the thing emerging from the portal. It was long and metal and absolutely wicked, some flying dinosaur-animal-thing, with wicked teeth and metal ribbed all down its sides.

“Time to go,” Tony said quickly as the thing got closer. He yanked the Captain up and started running, just full-on sprinting, slowing a little when Steve lagged behind.

“Come on, you're _Captain America._ No way a dashing, witty, philanthropic billionaire should be able to beat you in a footrace.”

Steve huffed appreciatively and picked up the pace, but his gait was forced and pained. Tony frowned and helped him into the building, hoping the portal-things hadn't seen them.

“Jeez, you weigh a ton.”

“Do not!”

“Do too.”

Steve was too tired to argue. His eyes looked unfocused and cloudy and the sweat problem was only getting worse, streaming down his face and soaking the makeshift bandage that was already crusted with his blood. They didn't have much time left.

“Come on, Cap, shake a leg. We have to get up to the lab and god knows what's lurking in here.”

Steve said nothing, only pointed.

Tony's eyes widened as he saw it. It was a zombie, just one, but where there was one there were twenty. _Loki had let them into his tower?_

“I'm going to beat his ass into the ground _so_ hard he—”

“Tony,” Steve said softly, wheezing a little, “let's just get to the lab.”

“Right.” He hoisted his gun and shot the thing, hoping that the zombies were scattered instead of all together. They'd be easier to handle that way. Steve stumbled a little so Tony wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him onto the stairs.

“It's not too far up. I did the viral work on a lower floor in case I had to get there quickly and the elevator was out of commission. I do have sense occasionally, you know.”

Steve muttered something unintelligible which Tony took to be approval, mostly for his sanity's sake. Grasping Steve's side firmly, he half-walked with, half-carried the Captain, murmuring words of encouragement and praying he wasn't too late. Any moment and he could go from supporting the guy to trying to get as far away from him as possible, and he was _not_ looking forward to shooting the Steve in the face. Especially because, knowing the serum he'd been enhanced with, it would probably take multiple shots.

He shuddered at the thought and tried to banish it from his mind, thinking instead of the things outside. Loki's plan was still so cloudy in his mind; he couldn't make heads or tails of it all and that frustrated him. He tried to discuss his hypotheses with Steve, but it was clear he couldn't think straight enough to actually help.

Tony felt alone.

He'd never needed anyone but himself—and Pepper, but that was different—and now he was finally thinking maybe, just _maybe_ he could actually enjoy the company of another human being, and that human being was dying over his shoulder. What was he supposed to do now? Weep? He didn't know what to do and the only options he could think of felt suspiciously close to giving up.

_I can still cure him,_ he thought, but as Steve's speech grew more and more jumbled, the confidence backing that up eroded. Instead he just pushed on, heading up the last flight of stairs with burning lungs and tired legs, and entered the lab.

He set Steve down against a wall and knelt down in front of him.

“Cap, can you hear me?”

“Loud and... clear,” Steve said, trying to look straight at Tony but overshooting and sending his head lolling to the side instead.

“Good. I'm going—I'm going to save you, alright? Just sit tight.”

“Give me the gun.”

“What?”

“I'll... back you up. So you can work faster.”

Tony bit his lip, not liking the idea, but nodded and handed Steve the gun.

“Don't throw your life away. If you die, I'll—I'll kill you.”

Steve laughed weakly. “I'll make sure to stay alive, then.”

“Damn right you will,” he grumbled, turning and facing the console. Loki would no doubt have installed blocks on his software, but they could be easily remove. All he had to do was find the missing piece and—

A clang in the corner of the room made him look up. His eyes searched the darkness, trying to make out the figure in it, and he was about to call out when it came into the light.

His throat seized up and he grasped the counter for  support, unable to believe his eyes.

“P-Pepper?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this accidentally turned into six chapters... this one is a bit shorter than the others, but I had to cut off the end or it would have been ridiculously long instead! Anyway, next chapter _should_ be the end, although I'm contemplating an epilogue. Well, we'll see what we see. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :')

Tony's breath caught in his throat.

“Pepper?” he croaked again, his normally steady gait faltering as he took a step toward her. He felt something tighten in his chest and had to fight to breathe properly. It was as if the air around him had grown sticky: he couldn't inhale properly, and when he finally did, the air didn't seem to want to leave his lungs. Something choked, some strangled sob, sounded from deep within his throat.

She was one of them.

Her eyes were glassy. They stared sightlessly ahead, unfocused and cloudy, her jaw gaping open and revealing a grayish-pink tongue. Her collar was stained with the rust red of her dried blood, her neck still somewhat wet with it.

She was looking straight through him.

“Oh _god,”_ he said, clutching the console so he wouldn't fall over. “Pepper, I—” His throat closed involuntarily, choking back his words. He remembered their last conversation, its abruptness, how he'd _snapped_ at her, how she'd turned, how there was so much _unfinished—_

“I'm so, so sorry,” he finally said when he could find his words. “God, Pepper, I just—oh Jesus, I—are you—Pepper, are you still in there, somewhere? I—this is all my fault!” The words tumbled from his mouth thoughtlessly, his brain unable to function properly. He stepped toward her, his arms half-reaching out helplessly, his face the picture of anguish. He wished that the strong Tony Stark he'd always clung to, the one who told people there was hope when he didn't know how to fix things, was there somewhere, but he had gone. All that was left was a very small, very scared Anthony, broken and upset and under confident, breakable, just a shadow of his usual self. His chest felt like it was being prised open. Every way he'd ever wronged Pepper was being rubbed in it like salt, ground into the wound and sizzling with a vengeance.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered, his voice almost totally gone. He could feel the first few tears as they streaked down his face in rivulets, creating trails through the dirt and grime he was covered in. He hovered for a moment, half of him wanting to rush toward her, take her in his arms, and half of him knowing he had to stay away because he'd get his face eaten off, tears and all.

As he looked on, unable to speak, she smiled. It was ragged and reckless, quirked at the corners like a sneer, teeth dirtied and gums bloodied and all malice and hate. It wasn't Pepper.

“Shoot her.”

Steve's breath wheezed behind him and he heard him fiddling with the gun.

“Are you sure about this, Tony?”

“Yes. Do it.”

“Tony—”

She lunged.

“ _Shoot her!”_ he practically screamed, his voice gravelly with pain. Her dirty fingernails grasped for his throat, her teeth gnashing, and he pushed her away from him with a cry, hoping she was in a good position for Steve.

One shot was all it took. She fell to the ground soundlessly, a soft thump the only signifier of her death, the shot leaving a ringing in his ears.

Tony felt numb.

Mouth agape like a fish's, he headed back to the console and cast a quick glance at Steve.

“I—thank you,” he said, somewhat embarrassed that this man had seen him so vulnerable.

Steve said nothing, only coughed quietly, and Tony knew his time was truly finite.

Turning back to his computer screens, he worked frantically to pull all his files on the cure up. He  _would_ save Steve. He had to. This guy, this  _stranger_ , was all he had left now, all that was left after the magnificent Tony Stark's wonderful little charade of superiority and independence was over, after the walls had crumbled down, after he was made to feel desperate and broken and afraid. This man was what he had to cling to because, besides his machines and technology, what else did he have? You couldn't hug a computer or have an enriching conversation with a was of cash. As far as humans went, he was fucked.

“You're not dying, Steve Rogers,” he said through gritted teeth. “Not today.”

Steve laughed raucously, the phlegm in his voice heavy and unhealthy-sounding. “Of course not. You're a genius, Mr. Stark. You can figure it out.”

They both knew it wasn't as easy as that, but Tony appreciated the gesture.

“I see you've discovered my gift.”

White-hot fury shot up in his stomach almost instantaneously.

“ _Loki!”_ he shouted, looking up at the speaker on the ceiling. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“She was just a victim of a great cause, Stark. I do have one, you know. It's not all arbitrary.”

“Pray _fucking_ tell.”

“I hadn't meant for it to happen this way, actually. This... _disease_ is a side-effect. I wanted complacency, see. Humans are meant to be ruled, to bow down to their superiors.” He sighed. “I suppose I got what I wished for... and you know, it actually assisted me in my endeavors quite a bit. With your S.H.I.E.L.D compatriots running around and trying to solve this crisis, I was able to snatch the Tesseract right out from under their noses.”

Tony's brow furrowed and he remembered something he'd read about a Tesseract in a S.H.I.E.L.D file he'd broken into. Was that what that portal was?

“Well, I suppose the end result is the same. The humans are obedient. I can control them, you know. All of them as a group. I can send them in hordes to wherever I choose. In fact, you may find some of them are making their way towards your right now...”

Tony took in a shuddery breath, drying the tears that marked his momentary weakness and trying not to look at Pepper 's body on the ground, preparing himself for whatever Loki was going to throw at him next.

That's when he heard it.

It started off small, almost distant. A low buzzing sound. As it grew louder, though, it became less a distant buzz and more a crisp, distinct moan, at once both frighteningly monstrous and agonizingly human, and Tony's stomach sank.

He really was controlling them. He was manipulating their already decrepit minds, sending them running for them, surrounding them. They were no doubt  almost there, ready to tear him apart—

“Have fun. I recommend you save your last shots for yourselves,” Loki said with a laugh, and the intercom went quiet.

“You ready, Cap?”

“Ready as I'll ever be, Stark.”

Tony's mouth quirked into a smile. His hands found the console again and he took a deep breath, staring at the pages and pages of research on the screen.

“We can still do this, you know. I can save you and we can get the fuck out of here.”

Steve's laugh was small, weak. “There was never a doubt in my mind that you could.”

The first of the infected appeared, shambling and broken, blood dripping from at least four different wounds.

“With any luck, I could be done in as little as five minutes. You just gotta cover me.”

“You can count on me, Tony. Just do your thing.”

Tony tried to swallow but his throat didn't seem to want to work properly. Steve was just humoring him, they both knew it. They were going to die in that very room, side by side, fighting until the end.

_Well,_ he thought as his fingers began to dance along the keyboard, _at least I'll by dying with Captain_ fucking _America._ If he had a choice of people to die with in this world, he would not have chosen differently.  

He again cursed his reliance on technology as the zombies poured in: he'd always included lots of entrances to every room because, if need be, Jarvis could always just seal them off. Now he was suitless, guardless, soon-to-be- _lifeless_ because he'd always counted on technology to save his ass in a tight spot. He wasn't a hero or some sort of superhuman, he was just a guy with a lot of money and fancy, expensive toys he'd bought with said money. Hell, he wasn't even  _mentally_ a hero, not like Steve. Steve was just, he was—

The sound of gunshots interrupted his thoughts. Steve was shooting them as best he could, and damn, the guy had good aim for someone delirious with a deadly disease.  It seemed as if they actually would make it out, the two of them—they'd be covered in blood and exhausted, sure, but they could  _do_ it. Tony's confidence swelled, if only a little, and his fingers flew across the keyboard. There was only one thing missing, but what was that thing?

After a while, the shooting became almost a comfort. He knew that Steve was still conscious, still fighting, as long as he could hear the crack of a bullet firing and the small clink of the case hitting the floor. The bodies were piling up, obscuring Pepper's now, some slumped in the doorways and some in the middle of the room. That didn't stop them, of course, but it slowed them down. They still continued their slow-paced invasion from all directions, creating a wide arc around them that Tony knew would be tough to escape. It was only a matter of time before they closed in, before they were reaching for him with cracked fingernails and bloodied arms, filling his nose with the stench of death, but they weren't there _yet._ He still had time, and fuck it all if he wasn't going to make the most of every second.

“How you doing?” Steve called weakly as he reloaded the gun.

“Good. I'm almost done, Cap, just hold tight. Shouldn't be more than a few minutes and we can get outta here. I just have to do _one_ more—” 

_That's it!_ Tony choked back a cry of relief as he realized what compound  he  was missing. If he just—

The sound of shooting stopped abruptly, throwing Tony off. He frowned, still deep in concentration, and was about to call to Steve when he spoke. 

“Tony,” Steve said softly, “I'm out of bullets.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooooooo, last chapter! No epilogue, I decided. The order of things actually radically changed as I wrote this. It was weird, and, well, pretty typical. xD I like the changes it made to itself, though, and hopefully it makes for a good finishing chapter.

Tony's mouth went dry.

He looked around the room, at the zombies slowly closing in, and felt something sink in his stomach. They were out of bullets  _already?_ How were they supposed to make it out now? Normally with his suit and Steve at full capacity it would be a piece of cake, but they now... what were they supposed to do?

“ _I recommend you save your last shots for yourselves.”_ The words echoed around in his mind, taunting him. 

Steeling his resolve, he turned back to his screen and resumed working.  “No, I can—I can do this, alright? Fight them with your shield, just— just two more minutes, I can do it, I can save you and we'll get the  fuck  out  of here —”

“I can't get up.” Steve's tone was soft, gentle. Calm less for his own benefit and more for Tony's.

Tony looked at him, fury burning in his stomach  for this awful situation, for how he could almost  _taste_ the cure, for how he could feel the cool liquid on his fingertips .

“God,  Steve,  not now. Just... for me,  please  get the  _fuck_ up!”

“I'm trying. I—my legs aren't working anymore. I can't get them to move.”

The zombies were closing in in a steady ring, surrounding them, boxing them in.  Tony looked around frantically, knowing there was no time left. He couldn't keep arguing with Steve, though he desperately wanted to.

“Come on, Cap. Get up,” he said determinedly, but his attention was no longer trained on Steve. He had switched to another set of screens and was now quickly pulling up the ingredients for a small bomb, pushing back one of the infected to get at the cabinet on the wall—he was lucky he kept emergency stocks of chemicals that Jarvis didn't control. Making two quickly, he cast them into the far side of the room, cringing as a dozen of the things were blown to bits with each explosion. After throwing the second one he picked up a stray pipe laying on a table—he had never been so glad he was a messy inventor—and swung it at the head of a zombie with all his might, spattering brains and blood against all of his computers and their pretty little screens.

“Get up!”

“I can't.”

Tony met Steve's gaze. It wasn't sadness, it wasn't  anger, it was just... resignation. He knew what was going to happen to them just as Tony did and thus had resigned himself to his fate.

“Steve, goddammit, you are Captain _fucking_ America and Captain America doesn't give up,” Tony said, blowing through another zombie with the pipe. He was so close to the cure and he was _not_ going to let everything fall apart now.

“Tony, I—”

“Shut up and listen.” He swung the pipe around in a wide arc, knocking back the infected left and right, and tried to quell his heaving lungs, not willing to let Steve think for a second that he was going to give up, too. “We are going to get out. I'll protect you for a bit and finish the cure and we'll skip out, arm in arm, and find an open bar somewhere in this hell and you are going to live, so for the love of god would you _please_ muster up some enthusiasm while I save your ass?”

Steve's head fell to the side as he fought for consciousness. “Tony, I'm trying, I just—my legs won't work, and I don't—” 

Tony's heart pounded in his chest. He swung the pipe again, knocking back the zombies as far as he could, blinking back the blood that spattered into his eyes. As he looked around at the little bubble he'd created, he dropped the pipe and knelt down in front of Steve, taking the Captain's face in his hands and shaking it a little.

“Stay with me, Steve. Come on. You can do this.” Steve's eyes rolled around in their sockets, distant and cloudy, trying desperately to focus on Tony and failing. “Don't let it get you. Come on—come on, _look_ at me!”

“I—I—”

“God _dammit!_ Hang on, I can fix this. I can still—oh god, Steve, open your eyes, don't fall asleep.” Steve's eyelids lifted again and he  gave a small grunt.

“I'm trying.”

“Try _harder.”_ His hands clutched at Steve's face, shaking him, trying to snap him out of it.

It wasn't working.

“I don't know how much longer I can keep this up.”

Tony felt tears coming to his eyes again and cursed his weakness. He was _Iron Man_ and _Iron Man_ didn't cry, kind of like how _Captain America_ didn't give up.  It just wasn't right. So, instead of giving in to the burning behind his eyelids, he faced Steve and willed the despair away. 

“You can do this. Stay with me, Steve.”

“Go,” Steve started, waving his hand, “go finish the cure. I'll be... I'll be fine. You... don't worry.” His voice was raspy and quiet, almost inaudible. Tony looked around him, thinking it would be wise to oblige, but it was no use. The things had surrounded them, groaning and awful, slowly reaching for the only circulating blood in the room. There was no way out.

“The cure's not important now. Just keep your eyes open, alright?” He wasn't sure why he was fighting so hard to keep Steve awake—there was no use now, no purpose to it. Neither he nor Steve could be saved, and really, would he rather be torn apart slowly by a dozen zombies or quickly by a superhero?

“I... I volunteered, you know,” Steve croaked, his eyes almost focusing on Tony.

Tony's eyebrows furrowed. “For what?”

“To... to find you. Fury was gonna send Natasha... but I told him to send me instead.” Steve's mouth twisted up into something like a smirk.

“Why? Why would you... we barely knew eachother.” 

Steve actually manage to muster up a laugh. “You're an interesting guy, Stark. Even I know that.”

Tony's heart pounded in his chest and his eyes searched Steve's, trying to glean some understanding from what he was saying.

“Why are you—” 

“I just thought you... should know. For this.” Steve lifted his finger and tapped it against the metal of Tony's arc reactor, his hand barely reaching it before it fell back again.

Tony's eyes widened and he felt a tear slip down his cheek—sorrow not only for the death of Steve, but for Pepper, too, for the life he'd had, for the world that he  _could have saved_ , for everything he'd never done and everything he'd put aside and everything he'd taken for granted, because  _this was it_ and there were no second chances.  He had no time left to whittle away on gadgets and money and women; this was  _it._

Taking a deep breath, he pressed his lips to Steve's.

It was short and sloppy and Steve was barely conscious enough to notice it, but it was  _real._ The cloudiness in Steve's eyes dissipated, if only a little, and his eyebrows quirked downward questioningly.

“I just thought you should have that. For this.” Tony's finger tapped above Steve's heart and he smiled. Steve tried to smile, too, but his head was intent on lolling to the side, the only barrier between his head and his shoulder being Tony's hands.

“I—hey, Steve, c'mon. Most people would be freaking out right about now. Do you know how many people dream of kissing me?”

Steve didn't answer. His eyes kept closing and Tony had to shake him to open them every time, his mouth falling open a little.

“Steve. Hey, Steve. Open your eyes.” Nothing. “Come on, I know you're in there—goddammit, Steve, wake up! Don't—don't do this. You can't just walk into my life like that and then _die_ on me. I swear to god, if you're the one who eats my brains I will be very upset. Just—just open your eyes, alright? Just do it. It doesn't take much.” He choked back a sob as he shook Steve by the shoulders, all too aware of the ever-increasing proximity of the infected. “God, Steve, I'm sorry... this is all my fault. You didn't have to come get me; I would have been fine on my own. I would have managed. I'm just—god, I'm so—I'm so _sorry.”_

It was to no avail. Steve was unconscious, the zombies were closing in, and he had nothing left to live for.

_So let death come,_ he thought, standing up and looking at his failed attempt at an empire. It could have been something, maybe, if he hadn't been a failure, if he hadn't been the world's only hope. That'd teach people to rely on a guy like him—not that there was anyone left to complain about it, of course.

Letting his head fall back, he looked up at the ceiling and stretched out his arms, waiting for the sharp pierce of teeth against his skin.

That was when he heard it. 

It could be described in no other way than as a low rumble, an irregular sort of thumping sound. Tony looked to the door and quickly shook off a zombie that was attempting to grab him, something akin to hope flaring somewhere deep inside him. Was that—could it be—

A loud crash confirmed his suspicions. Standing in the doorway—which was now more of a hole than anything—was a figure, the tallest, greenest thing that could be seen for miles, and he was  _angry._

Tony's mouth fell open as the Hulk tore through the crowd of zombies, roaring as he smashed through the room. He stopped just in front of Tony, giving him an oddly knowing look before turning back to the crowd around him.

As he stood there, mouth agape, Nick Fury strode through the wreckage with a furious look plastered on his face.

“As soon as this is over, Stark,” he began, two fingers pointing to his eyes and then Tony as he walked by, “we're going to have words. Lots and lots of words, and most of them will begin with _f.”_ Then he was gone, presumably headed toward the roof, where Loki was still holed up.

Natasha was next, casting him a hard look as she kicked a zombie's jaw out of place.

Tony suddenly realized how much time he was wasting and leapt for the console, clearing the blood and guts from the keyboard with one fell swoop of his sleeve and working away again. An arrow flew by and impaled the skull of an infected man beside him, stopping him mid-shuffle. Tony hazarded a look out the nearest window and was met with a wave from Hawkeye, who was sitting on a piece of scaffolding on the building opposite the tower.

With one final tap of the enter key, it was done. Tony quickly perused the chemicals necessary and hoped he'd done it all right—then again, he never made those sorts of mistakes—and popped the capsule into a syringe he'd laid aside for this very purpose, rushing to Steve as soon as the coast was clear. 

“Let's hope this works,” he said, gritting his teeth and plunging the needle into Steve's arm. 

The wait was agonizing. He was either going to be faced with a very disgruntled man or a very violent superhero, and he was looking forward to neither option. For a moment he thought he was going to be facing the latter, but when Steve sputtered into life, his eyes opening and his hands grasping for something unseen, Tony knew it had worked.

He hadn't meant for it to happen, but he couldn't help himself, really. Steve tried to say something but Tony  interrupted him with a kiss, first one, but then several, quick and happy and full of little unfulfilled promises Tony couldn't wait to explore.

“Wh—” Steve began, but a voice from behind them shushed him.

“Stark. You coming or what?”

Tony started and looked behind him, laughing when he saw Agent Coulson's disapproving look.

“Yeah, yeah.” Getting up, he gave Steve a stern glance. “To be continued!”

He reluctantly parted ways with Steve, dodging the Hulk as he smashed around the lab, and joined Coulson. As he walked with the agent, however, yet another voice distracted him.

“Suit, sir?”

Tony stopped as the panels of the floor shifted, revealing two holes for him to step into.

“Ah, Jarvis. I take your appearance to mean Loki has been subdued?” 

“Quite.”  
“I think I can handle this one, then. Ask me again in a minute.”

“As you wish, sir.” The holes disappeared.

As Tony strode onto the deck, he saw a very welcome sight: not the city burning around him, or the veritable war going on with the things Loki had allowed to invade, but Loki himself slumped between Thor and Natasha.

“Anything you wanna say to this guy, Stark?” Hawkeye said as he approached, having gotten from building to building in that mysterious way he had.

“Yeah. Well, it's more of a present, actually.” He strode up to Loki, head held high, and smiled. “I'm going to enjoy this." 

In one swift motion, he punched Loki square in the face.

Nothing had ever felt so good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. :') I hope you liked it, Bones!
> 
> Oh, and P.S: I'm thinking I might make this a series in which everyone adjusts to life after the pandemic. Thoughts on this would be appreciated!


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